Aoi
by Viidoll
Summary: Fic status: abandoned - Aoi. Blue. The perfect word to describe Katana. The story of his past unfolds.
1. Blood

Disclaimer: I do not own Gad Guard. If I did, it would be MUCH MUCH different. Like, freaky different. Like, I can't even describe it without shounen ai different. 

**WARNING:** Shounen ai. Boy x boy love. Yeah, you heard me. Of course, it comes later on. I'm planning on making this a chapter story, so...

Authoress' Notes: Yup, here I am. I am proud to state that I, Hieica, have made the very fourth fanfiction on of the series Gad Guard! YAAAY! . I also want to state that mine is the first fic I've read about the sexy Katana's past, though I decided to leave the whole Sayuri thing out other than the "played with the neighbours' kids" stuff. I used the information based off of the episode with Radigue, _Snow Warms Up the Soul/Snow Melts the Heart_, and my crazy fangirl imagination to create this ficcie.

...yeah.

Have fun! -big grin-

* * *

**Aoi  
**"Blood"

* * *

He came from a well-known family. A wealthy family that was known for both of his father and his mother, because both were important members to society. His father was an extremely successful and known businessman, and his mother was a beautiful, world-renowned famous actress. It was because of this he was unhappy.

Like most children that come from wealthy families, he could possess whatever material item that he desired, a toy or a pet, he could have the latest thing before it was even released to the public. He knew of all of the important people, the people that were behind every important business or operation at the time. Also, like most children that come from wealthy families, he desired the one thing that all of his parents' money pooled together could not possibly buy him.

Love.

Why was it that his parents could spare him a few bucks, but not a few minutes of their time? Was time so precious to them that they couldn't be bothered by the son that they spent so much of their precious time concieving? Was time more important than the child that was birthed from their mutual love? He wanted to know the answers to these questions and more.

Why was it that he was always home alone with a maid or a nanny? Did they deem him inimportant enough to only see him a few minutes after weeks of pretending he was non-existent?

Did they hate him that much?

Or were they just making a couple of mistakes?

Either way, he was lonely. He was starved of love and attention, he had long since grown tired of the lifeless stuffed animals that listened to him but were silent when he asked them questions. He'd long since grown tired of silent dinners at the long dining table lit by tall candles by himself, or the dinners at the neighbours' houses and seeing their perfect families, laughing, smiling, talking, spending time together. He didn't understand what all the other children had that he didn't. He wanted to know why their parents loved their children and his did not.

Around his neighbours, he felt ostracized. Even drawing on the walls with the other children, he felt different, as though he was the only child without that parental love, comfort, and security.

He watched quietly and in envy in the shadows as the mothers would bring their children to the playground and help them on the monkey bars, or push them as they sailed into the air on the swings, or catch them at the bottom of the spiral slides. He stared with those golden eyes in longing, yearning to be one of those happy, smiling children. He would do anything, give up anything to be one of those despair-free children. He would watch the joyous children and their beautiful mothers at the playground. His mother was beautiful, of course, but she didn't have that motherly air about her, she didn't contain the beauty and gracefulness of a mother's love.

At night, after all of the smiling children and their mothers went home to a warm house and were greeted with a nice, joyful dinner spent at the table together, he would perch himself onto a swing and kick off of the ground, swinging back and forth. Nobody to push him, nobody to stop the swing if he went too high and got scared. Nobody but himself and the chilly breeze of night, and the rattling of the chains on the swings as those chilly breezes blow through and at them, creating the illusion of invisible children swinging with him, back and forth, in the cold darkness of night.

When he went home, his nanny would run up to him and sweep him off of the floor.

"Where were you?" She would ask.

He wouldn't reply, no, he had stopped trying to let out his feelings a long time ago. He would just look at her with wide olive eyes. The nanny was the only one who would ever speak to him, though there relationship was a bit uncomfortable because he knew she was just getting paid for watching him and she knew that he was hurt inside and would not wish to remind him of it. She would hold him in her arms and hope that, as he got older, he would realize that she only wanted him to know that someone did care for him.

"We were so worried about you!"

Lies. All lies. He would tightly shut his eyes and wish it all to disappear, to go away.

It was rare, but sometimes, his parents would give him a tiny bit of attention as well. They would bring him along with them to parties, or on cruises, and the nanny was left to take care of the house. Whether they brought him because they regretted neglecting him, or if they just used him for their image, he would never know, but that was the only time that he would be able to be loved. Even if it was fake, in front of the camera, he would still treasure it.

It was one of those parties on a cruise ship that would change his life.

He was sitting on a chair at one of those tables, peering over the edge of the ship, allowing himself to stare deeply as the waves crashed into the side of the ship. He wondered what would happen if he fell overboard. Would anybody even notice him, flailing around in the water, struggling for air?

All around him people were talking and laughing and having a good time, so why did he still feel so alone?

"Hey, isn't he that actress's son?"

He turned his head towards the direction that the voice came from. There was a group of beautiful women, faces he recognised from bill boards or ones that he's seen on the television screen.

"I think so, he looks a lot like her," one said, stepping a bit closer to him and looking at his facial features.

"That kid should be glad he got his mother's looks," said another.

He looked up at them, wondering when they would go away. Whenever someone noticed him, he was always "that actress' son" or "the kid of the business guy". Maybe if he just ignored the women, they would stop talking and leave him alone. He looked down at the hard wood floor.

"How old did she say he was?"

"She didn't say, but he look's about ten or eleven years old..."

"Why does he stare at the ground like that?"

"I bet he thinks he's too good to look at us."

"Of course he does, his mom's that 'world famous actress', remember? Why should he look at us, these lowly models?" One said with extreme distaste in her voice.

He closed his eyes and balled his fists. _Make them go away, please...!_ he thought desperately.

Thunder echoed in the distance. He felt a slight pinch of rain on the back of his head, and he looked up and to the side. The sky was dark, and flashes of lightning sparked, slowly nearing the ship. The rain grew heavier. The models' hands flew to their perfect hair as they ran inside for protection against the rain. They wouldn't want to ruin their precious hair and have it get frizzy.

Soon, he was the only one standign on the deck, getting the full blast of rain. He turned to go inside, when a wave crashed onto the side of the ship. The force knocked him over ontop his hands and knees, and he looked to the side. His eyes widened and he latched onto a nearby pole, one that was helping the balcony part of the ship to stand.

The cruise ship crashed into a dark boulder sticking up out of the water. He lost his grip and rolled, smacking into the wall. He heard the screams of the other passengers inside and many plowed their ways out onto the deck. His father ran to the side and peered over the edge at the massive hole in the side of the ship. Lightning struck the deck near his father's feet, and the man jumped back. Where he was standing one short moment ago, there was now a fire. The rain pelted into it, but the winds caused it to roar and spread across the rest of the deck.

The ship shook, and the young boy heard a crack. He watched as a piece of the deck, and sharp wooden floor board came flying at him. It connected with the left side of his face with a sickening thud. He fell and reached to his cheek, pulling his hand away as pain shot through his mind. He saw the blood on his hand and it flew to his cheek once again.

He called over the roaring flames. "Otousan!" There was nothing but the flames and the smoke. Inhaling the poisonous air, he choked out. "Okaasan!"

He felt arms pulling him up off of the deck and he looked up, through the blood that was clouding his vision, to see his father holding him in one arm and pulling his mother along with the other. Together they ran through the ball room to the other side of the ship. There was a life boat with room enough for the three of them, and the father pushed through the crowd, helping his mother onto the boat and putting him in his mother's arms.

The ship shook violently, and the life boat was torn from the ship. He and his mother in horror watched as they floated away from the sinking ship and his father. There was no time for remorse or even a sense of relief that they were away from the burning ship, because a huge wave towered over the small life boat. His mother held him close before the wave swept over them, pulling them down under the water. The salt water stung his cheek and his lungs were filling with water. He opened his eyes and saw his mother smiling at him, even through the water. Other people were grabbing onto her ankle in an attempt to push her down and propel themselves up.

And she let him go.

* * *

Hieica: Umm... how was it? I'm trying here. I'm not sure how this will stand. Did you like it? Did it suck? Should I have made his parents completely cruel bastards?

Originally, his parents were going to pay attention to him and stuff and he would have had the perfect life and stuff, but then I thought of his character now, and one cruise ship wreck wouldn't make him THAT cold, would it? I really don't know. Also, I refrained from using the name "Katana", because I'm not sure if it's his real name, but I doubt it is because there is no last name accompanying Katana. So, yeah.

I wrote this because there's so little Gad Guard stuff out there, and I love Gad Guard, so this is what was born from that. I also own the very first English shrine to Katana, with the same name as this fic, at think Aoi is the perfect word to describe Katana, so that's why this fic is called that and the shrine. Yeah.

Reviews are most welcome! Constructive criticism, compliments, rabid fangirl-osity, flames. They're all welcome so at least I know that people actually read this.


	2. Snow

Authoress' Notes: Hello everybody! It is I, Hieica. I am now working on the second chapter to Aoi. Aoi is expected to have about three or four chapters, it depends on how much bull shit I can stuff into one fic. -smile- I think only the first two or three chapters are going to be about Katana's past. The last chapter, whichever chapter it may be, will be the shounen ai one. Yay, shounen ai! 

Radigue is in this one! I'm not even sure if I spelled his name right. -uses caption on the TV, but caption can't spell names for their lives-

...yeah. I was trying to msake an entire chapter of Katana wandering around, but I honestly don't think I can make that much crap up for the poor guy to do.

... -cheek twitch-

Have fun! .

* * *

**Aoi**  
"Snow"

* * *

He felt the sun beating down on his back as he groaned. He was laying on his stomach, with his right cheek pressed down into the sand. He felt a great pain by the corner of his left eye, and he had a pounding headache that was not getting any better from the sounds of crashing waves. He closed his fist on the ground, feeling the sand sift through his fingers. The sand between his fingers? The sun on his back? The crashing waves? 

He remembered what happened and shot up off of the ground, attempting to open his eyes, but his left eyelids seemed to be stuck together. The movement made him dizzy and the light blinded him. He blinked his one open eye until he got used to the bright sunlight. He reached his hand to his left eye, touching it upon dry blood. The contact made more pain shoot through his head, and he immediately pulled his hand away.

After that pain slowly faded into a dull throbbing, he took his fingers once again and touched upon it, this time much more gentle and wary. his fingers traveled upon the stiff path of blood toward his eye. He felt his eyelids and eyelashes. They were so caked in dry blood that his eye had been dried closed.

He began to slowly and carefully scratch the blood out of his eyelashes and peeled it off of his eyelids, so he could once again open his left eye. Choosing not to touch the blood on the side of his eye again, even though it hurt and itched like mad, he took in his surroundings.

He was sitting on a small beach, a small side shore connecting to the ocean. There were trees and a hill that lead up to a road that cars were passing by on. One such truck pulled over to the side and halted. The boy watched as a middle-aged man stepped out of the driver's side of the truck and looked down at him.

"Hey kid!"

He looked at the man, acknowledging only with his gaze that he heard him.

"Are you all right?" The man asked, shouting down at him.

He stared for a second before standing, not taking his eyes off of the man. This man was wearing faded old overalls and his truck looked beat up, with all sorts of things in the back of it. He was probably just an average guy in the middle of doing his job.

"Here, hop in, I'll take you to the hospital to get that checked out," he said, and stepped back into the truck.

The boy didn't move for a second. He wasn't sur eif he should trust the man. His nanny always told him not to talk to strangers. Of course, the pain under his left eye contradicted that, and he walked over to the truck, stepping in, sitting down in the passenger's seat, and slamming the door shut.

They were driving down the street in silence before the man, one arm leaning against the door and propping up his head, the other on the steering wheel, spoke. "I thought you lost your eye at first, with all that blood there."

The boy gave him a questioning look, and the man flipped down the mirror above the young boy's head. "See?"

The blue-haired boy adjusted the flip-down mirror before peering into his reflection. He took his hand and traced the wide path of the dried blood from his jaw all the way up to his eye. It was thin and brown where the blood just ran, but the actual wound itself was still bright red, and parts of it were still sticky with newer blood.

"You're lucky you still have an eye, kid," the man continued talking. "What happened, anyway?"

The young boy said nothing and looked at his hands that rested on his lap.

-

"It's going to scar," the doctor spoke to him.

He was sitting on a white table in the middle of a doctor's office in the hospital of the nearest town. The man that brought him in was sitting in a chair by the door. He looked up to the doctor with his one eye, the left one was covered by a bandage intended for the wound. A small television set played behind the doctor, showing images of a reporter lady at some beach. People were running in chaos around her with people on stretchers and large charred metal chunks. He stared at the screen behind the doctor, who turned toward the man that had brought him to the hospital.

The doctor handed the older man a bottle of heavy duty pain killers. "Give him two of these every four hours."

The man waved his hands. "Oh, he's not mine, I found him on the beach like that. Kid hasn't said a word, either."

Both of them looked at him, but he was unaware of the gazes that landed upon him, because he was intently watching the television. The two older men followed the path of his eye and gave the once ignored television their full attention.

"Last night, a cruise ship was caught up in a storm. The ship hit into a large boulder on the left side and immediately began to sink. Lightning struck the ship as well, catching it on fire. We're continuing to find bodies, and some are MIA. Passengers on this ship included famous people, such as the actress..." A picture of the young boy and his parents were thrown up onto the screen. "Her husband, and their child. So far, there have been no survivors found, but people could have easilly drifted off onto various other shores..."

The doctor and the worker looked at the young boy, who clenched his fists on his lap, staring down at them with a fierce gaze, as though if he stared long enough, he would burn holes onto the backs of his hands. The two older men looked at eachother and back to the small blue-haired boy.

-

Months passed by, and there was no trace of the bodies of his parents. He always made sure he was updated, because that last smile of his mother's that was actually directed at him, gave him a small thread of hope that they could be alive and maybe, just maybe, they would realize that they almost lost their precious son, and hang on to him forever. Childish, wishful thinking he knew, but there was nothing he could do.

He traveled alone, wandering through every town or city he suspected they could possibly be in. He even returned to his hometown quite a few times only to find their house vacant, extravagant in all it's splendor, yet slowly fading away. Nobody lived there anymore, and it was beginning to become rundown. It was a bit depressing, but not as depressing as what was happening to his childhood playground.

It was the place that he went to when he needed to think. It was sort of his sanctuary, where he could retreat into the back of his mind and just dwell there with no worries of the people around him bothering him, or talking about him behind his back. There, he could blend in, though not actually fit in with the other kids, he could just look like any other child whose mother or father was waiting patiently for him sitting on a bench and watching him as he played.

And it was starting to crumble. It seemed that a child fell off of one of the slides and got seriously injured, and the parents sued. The area was marked off with bright yellow caution tape, and nobody could go in and play anymore. All of the different slides, swing sets, monkey bars, all were forbidden, and while they retained their bright vivid paint colors, the sight of them empty, free of happy children, was enough to twist a knife in his heart.

Once he heard the news that, after all this time, his parents remains were found, that one glimmer of hope that he held so dear dissipated into the cold darkness of his broken heart.

After that, he wandered aimlessly, with no purpose. He didn't care what may happen to him, he didn't care that the sight of his scarred face made people in the crowd around him a bit uncomfortable.

Nothing mattered at all. Wherever he fell, he would lay until he disappeared.

He just didn't care anymore.

"Hey, kid!" A voice called.

He groggily opened his eyes and was blinded by the overwhelming white of newly fallen snow. His body was mostly numb, but he could tell that he was cold because he could see his breath floating through the air and his hands were shaking. The only thing he could mke himself do was shift his eyes to see what idiot interrupted his escape.

"Damn, kid, what the hell are you doing?" The blurry outline of a man said, looking down at him.

He tried to blink the man away, but he didn't move away.

"If you're going to die, do it somewhere else! You're in my digging space, and I don't appreciate trespassers - even ones that are trying to commit suicide."

_Make him go away..._ he thought numbly, closing his eyes.

"HEY, kid! Don't you go dyin' now," the man said, but the blue-haired boy either didn't hear him or he finally passed out.

The man looked around. "...ah, damn. I can't have a body here, they've got enough to suspect me of doin' something..."

He shook the boy that lay half-buried in the snow. Olive eyes opened and stared up at him, a bit glazed over. A wide scar ran down from the corner of his left eye halfway down his cheek. His lips were partly open and were slightly tinted blue from the cold. His skin was pale, but it could just be from laying in the snow for however long he did.

"You alive?"

The boy narrowed his eyes in an attempt at a glare, causing the older man to smile a little bit. "Threatenin' me, huh? Not gonna do you much good, glaring while you're lyin' in the snow, half-dead."

Before the boy could do anything, the man hoisted him up and practically threw him onto the other's back. The man instructed him to hold on, but he wouldn't be instructed by anyone. He didn't care.

"I'm Radigue. I'm a digger. Why," the man paused to put some emphasis onto the word and to go around what looked like a lump of neatly piled snow. If you weren't paying attention, you wouldn't see it until you triggered it's trap and were lying on the ground, dead. "...were you layin' there to die?"

The boy said nothing. It was none of this man's business what went on in his life.

"No answer then, kid? Fine, then at least give me your name."

He thought back. His name...? He had abandoned that long ago. Was he expected to still use it now, to this lowly digger? It didn't matter. He didn't care.

"Well?" The man asked, dodging more newly laid traps on the ground.

It didn't matter anyway.

"...Katana."

* * *

Hieica: Umm... how was it? I'm trying here. I'm not sure how this will stand. Did you like it? Did it suck? Be honest with me, please. Did I spell Radigue's name right? Probably not. Oh well. This chapter skipped around a lot, please don't mind it. . This will most definitely have at least four chapters, maybe more, so be on the look out! 

Okay, now I need your opinions. Who should Katana be with, Sanada Hajiki, our dense gogglehead, or Kisaragi Takumi, our wimpy champion of justice? I do realize that the majority of you will choose Hajiki, but please tell me anyway what you want, okays? No het, though, I am so much better at writing shounen ai... -sweatdrop-

Of course, I know what Saiyuki-Lvr's answer will be. ¬. She says Katana x Hajiki, all the way! Down with anybody else standing in the way! (Me: That would be Arashi -evil glare-) Yes, I really do NOT like Arashi too much. I mean, she's cute and it's fun when she kicks ass with martial arts, but she's just annoying. Also, Saiyuki-Lvr, my review for your fic _What's Already Mine_ seems to have been cut short. I twas actually very long and serious-ish after that first sentence. O.o;; So, please don't think I'm crazy. ¬.¬;;

I'm sorry to xShatteredSoulx for not reviewing two of your fics. . I try to steer as far away from lemons as possible. Gomen nasai! Maybe when I'm old enough to look at them and not turn my head away going "Eeeewww!", okay? T.T I'm positive that they are awesome and very well-written.

Reviews are welcome! As usual, constructive criticism, compliments, rabid fangirl-osity, flames are all welcome. Any feedback boosts my self-esteem and causes the plot bunnies to visit me. -smile-


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